


eagle one, eagle two (you know, last night i dreamt of you)

by azureforest



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Ambiguous Relationships, Banter, Best Friends, Detention, Gratuitous Swearing, M/M, Snark, Tending to Wounds, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21593065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azureforest/pseuds/azureforest
Summary: two boys get into a fistfight. they also end up in detention.a fragment of history returns to their eyes to gently haunt them.(they don't have to pick sides, this time.)
Relationships: Grinnaux de Dzemael & Paulecrain de Fanouilley, Grinnaux de Dzemael/Paulecrain de Fanouilley
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	eagle one, eagle two (you know, last night i dreamt of you)

**Author's Note:**

> yes. the title is the meme you are thinking of.
> 
> i dont think dialogue ever ran away from me as wildly as it did in this piece. these two are chaotic entities i exert no control over.
> 
> warning for grinnaux and paulecrain being... well, grinnaux and paulecrain. enjoy?

"You know," Paulecrain says, rolling up yet another wad of tissue paper for Grinnaux to shove up his broken, bleeding nose. "I could've easily won that fight."

"And leave me out of the fun? Fuck you." The other snaps, leaning against the counter as he tilts his head back, pulling out the bloodied tissue from before. He eyes it, lets it hover over his face for a bit. “Planning to leave both of your eyes black, huh? Zephirin’s eyebags have our whole grade covered already.”

A low growl fills the room, hovering between a sound and a feeling. There's a pause where Paulecrain stares at the half-clotted thread of red from Grinnaux’ nostril, until the seconds drag long, until time slows to a crawl. Until lavender eyes snap to him in a glare, and-

With a flick of his wrist, Grinnaux flings the clump of tissue and snot and blood at Paulecrain, effectively adding a new crimson stain on his already splattered and stained shirt. Great. Seeing his friend bite back the urge to grab his chair and hit him over the head with it, Grinnaux tilts his head half coyly, half disapprovingly, a drop of blood falling on the linoleum of the school nurse's office; A hand outstretched, demanding.

"Well?" Grinnaux drawls, gesturing to the tissue in the other's hand. "Hand it over."

It’s obvious what he means, but the kneejerk response comes naturally; _What, this chair to your brick of a skull?_ Paulecrain’s half tempted to snark back, but he’s had better ideas before. Far better ideas. Stupider ones, too. In fact, speaking of;

He shoves the clean tissue into his own mouth out of spite.

Chair legs screech. “What the _fuck?!_ ”

“What the shit, you’re _diseased!!!_ ” Grinnaux hollers, grabbing Paulecrain by the face- For a moment, the latter anticipates a swift headbutt to the face so they can match noses, but instead he feels fingers pushing past his lips, prying his mouth open like he’s a disobedient mutt. Paulecrain growls around it, bites down on the offending hand to play the part. Grinnaux swears, as if he wasn’t already doing that- Bared teeth flash in a grin, half strained and nigh unrecognizable for the fact Grinnaux is still trying to unhinge Paulecrain’s entire damn jaw.

“Hell’s wrong with you? Are you a goat--” Grinnaux snaps- Gets a wet tongue against his fingers in return, deliberately slobbering, really gross in this context, ew, ew, ew. “Gods, that’s disgusting, you’re a freak, WHY ARE YOU EATING PAPER--”

“‘ecau’ _‘uck you!_ ‘et ‘o o’ me, cockhea’!”

“Well spit that shit out! Saint Valeroyant in _hell_ , you’re _deranged_ \--”

With an aborted snarl, Paulecrain bites down on Grinnaux’ fingers again, _hard_ , and the other finally yanks back his hand only to wipe it on Paulecrain’s cheek. He swallows the tissue wad in petty rebellion.

Grinnaux roars and grabs the other by the collar. His nose is still bleeding, partially onto Paulecrain’s pants, partially onto his own shirt, partially onto the seat- Saturnois will not be happy about the stains on his chair. In fact, Saturnois will not be happy about any number of the things currently transpiring in his office.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear- Drawn in by the commotion and the screech of chair legs as Paulecrain rises to defend himself, the door slams open to the two quarreling, bleeding, battered boys, and an irate voice snaps Grinnaux out of possibly committing _homie_ cide over a tissue.

“What in Halone’s good name do you two think you’re _doing?!_ ”

Time stops, almost, moving like molasses. It resumes when a drop of Grinnaux’s blood falls on Paulecrain’s nose.

“Fuck.” he mutters.

* * *

Detention is an easy let off, considering they’d gotten into a fistfight. _Many_ fistfights, actually! Their other crimes against school regulations naturally notwithstanding, because that just skyrockets the ridiculousness of their getting off scot-free to new heights. Perks of being a rich brat and his partner in crime, Paulecrain supposes, as Grinnaux grumbles and buries his face in his ice pack. A fuming Saturnois had pushed them into Thordan’s office, who’d simply redirected them to Room 406 and told them to wait for Mr. Durendaire, if he isn’t there already.

If there’s very obvious doubt in Saturnois’ eyes, nobody points it out.

Predictably, room 406 is empty when Grinnaux pushes the door open- The vaunted teacher’s seat left vacant, all the desks save two in the middle pushed to the sides, an empty blackboard with no chalk and the class laptop locked safely in the cabinet. Paulecrain could pick the lock if he wanted to. Grinnaux could break the door. They don’t, though, and don’t really feel up to being put in detention under someone who’ll actually be present. Grinnaux kicks the door closed and pushes the blackboard up and down lazily.

“Y’know? I’ve got the feeling Jannequinard isn’t going to come. What’d you bribe him with?”

“I think not having to supervise us is bribe enough.” Paulecrain mutters, halfheartedly throwing his jacket over the back of a chair. It slides off. “... I’d prefer blackmail, though.”

A barked laugh- The blackboard rolls all the way down, hitting the bottom with a clunk. Grinnaux half-vaults onto to the desk (a forgotten pen rattles and rolls off, his bag sliding to the other edge of the surface) and grins, a leg swinging back and forth off the edge. They have homework, and an exam in three days. “We should ditch.”

“We should.” Paulecrain grins back- But the door remains closed, and he simply strolls over and leans on the front desk. Grinnaux cocks his head, looking down at the other down his nose as the other elezen moves, caging him in between his arms, leering up at him.

There is a promise in his smile, low and simmering like hot coals. Grinnaux doesn’t act on it, though his eyes take on a wicked gleam, instead pressing the sole of his boot against Paulecrain’s knee. There’s a sizable hole in the fabric of his jeans. It wasn’t there when they walked to school that morning.

“Ten minutes and we ditch.” Paulecrain murmurs, an ear flicking.

“Ten minutes, then whatever the hells we want.” Grinnaux corrects him, errant hand finding the skin over the black-blue mark on his face.

"If only you knew..." He sneers. "No wonder he doesn't want to come."

Grinnaux cackles. Paulecrain snorts and rolls his good eye, leaning in to the touch, the other all but swollen shut. Grinnaux laughs, head tipping the other way in an odd back-and-forth. They let the tempest still for once, let the dust settle, the world be. It breathes relief. The sunlight is warm on their skin where it spills into the classroom. Grinnaux traces the line of a pale eyebrow, somewhere between intrigue and a disinterest borne of familiarity.

“You ever consider an eyepatch?” he asks.

“Whuh?”

“Dunno, Just a thought. Seeing just one of your eyes made me…” He pauses. It was odd, really. He remembers a small void surrounded by marred skin, those same sharp teeth in a challenging grin. The edges of his face just a little sharper, a little older, highlighted by low candlelight. The sound of metal singing litanies through air, wild white hair, a war cry between a whoop and a shout...

Paulecrain scowls. The spell breaks. “You’d kill my depth perception for your own amusement?”

Grinnaux shrugs. “Yeah, maybe. I’d say nostalgia, but that’s probably the wrong word.”

“Forget I asked, then. You’re sick in the head.” A huff. “Nostalgia. Really?”

“Hmm.”

A pause. Paulecrain lets go of the desk, turns to sit on it next to Grinnaux. He scoots over with a furrow in his brow, the beginnings of a thoughtful pout on his face. Paulecrain nudges him, still frowning. “Stop that.”

“Stop what, breathing? Do it yourself.”

“ _Thinking_ , you jackass. I can hear your brain imploding from here.”

“I was just thinking- _Stop_ looking at me like that, I’ll take out your eye for real- Was just thinking that that this feels. Familiar. Can’t put my finger on it. ‘s pissing me off.”

Paulecrain snorts, leans on his shoulder. “Maybe you dreamt it.”

Grinnaux leans back, lightly knocks their heads together in the process- Accident or not, neither flinch. “... Yeah. I think I did.” He hums, looking to the ceiling as if the heavens would grant him another glimpse of it. “I might've dreamed of us last night- It was cold, and we were together. I had a big ol’- A big ol’ axe. Heavy. Skull-splitty. Pretty sick armor, too. Ever handle a lance?”

Together, huh. Paulecrain can almost feel the steely cold of winter in his palms. “Aye, though certainly not yours.”

“I don’t even have a dick to speak of, so shut the fuck up.”

“A spear then.” Paulecrain chuckles, shrugs off the way Grinnaux jostles him. Silence settles back in in the spaces between their aching bodies, seeps slowly into their skin with a weight of eons past. They ache. They simply ache with the injuries of the day and the phantoms resting heavy hands on their shoulders. It’s not restricting, not painful- It blankets them in familiarity, the faint smell of medicinal herbs and the hint of ash and fire. Grinnaux tastes blood, but that’s probably just his broken nose.

“We’ve been here before.” Paulecrain whispers, between an observation and a statement. They have, many times, in room 406. They have, in stone-walled rooms, in insulated tents, on altars after hours when no brothers in arms could scold them. An empty eye socket, dark and pink scars, deserved and undeserved accolades, weapons leaned against a wall in a darkened room, armor in a heap on the floor. They have, two partners in false righteousness and crime.

The two of them. Together. In that life and this one.

“You think we’d make badass knights?”

Paulecrain tilts his head and squints- Grinnaux raises his brow when he feels a rough hand on his face, gently turning his face to establish eye contact. That too is broken, golden eyes choosing to just follow the tip of his own finger as it traces an invisible path down Grinnaux’ forehead, over his eyelid, down his cheek.

There’s another joke about matching on the tip of his tongue, but it finds nowhere to go, simply melting like snow in his mouth. Today they are youths, growing into the mantle of adulthood, faces unmarred save bruises, scrapes, busted lips and broken noses. Neither know how long this will last. Baseball bats and mop handles simply aren't the same, now is not the time for history to repeat itself.

Perhaps for the better, lest they end up on the wrong side of it again. Still, Paulecrain smiles, thumb brushing against the sealed cut on the other’s lip.

“I think we would.”  
  


Ten minutes tick by, but they stay.

A thousand years pass, but they remain.

… In the end, the supervisor never comes.


End file.
